Until My Dying Day
by an adventure to gallifrey
Summary: Sherlock wants to spend the rest of his life with John, but has no idea how to tell him...
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock dialled the numbers hesitantly; he despised having to ask his brother for anything, yet in this case there was nothing he could do, he needed help. He pressed the 'call' button, and held the phone up to his ear. One ring. Two rings. Three rings-

"Sherlock." Came the icy voice on the other end of the line.

"Mycroft." He replied, in just as a cold a voice as his brother had used towards him. "I need..." he paused. "I need your help."

He did not fail to notice the quiet chuckle that came through the phone.

"Oh really? You do, do you now? What could _you _possibly need help with? Mr Sherlock 'I-Don't-Need-Anyone' Holmes?" he sneered down the line.

"You know that's not true. That I don't need anyone." He muttered.

"No, no. That's quite right. Of course, sorry. Allow me to amend my previous statement. Mr Sherlock 'Only-John-Watson-Is-Good-Enough-For-Me-Everyone-Else-Is-Irrelevant' Holmes. Better?"

"Long way to go purely to insult me... but really Mycroft, I need your assistance with this one matter." He almost begged. (I said _almost. _Sherlock Holmes never begged unless he was acting.)

"Would this _happen_ to have anything to do with your intention to propose to aforementioned John Watson?" Mycroft heard the slight gasp of surprise that Sherlock gave in response to that. "Oh please, I hope you don't think I failed to notice you spending a lot more time than I would think normal for you in jewellery shops, browsing through the _rings_." He said smugly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and replied. "Yes, alright, that is what I needed help with. I- I don't know how people usually go about these things."

"And what makes you think I'd want to help you?" he asked.

"Well, nothing, of course, except that I'm sure you'd like to keep it to yourself that a certain Detective Inspector has been making a _awful lot_ of visits to your house recently, even leaving his tie there at one point."

He could practically feel the glare that he was sure Mycroft was directing at the phone at that moment.

"_Very _clever little brother. Alright. I'll help. But you do as I say. No arguing. I know more than you on these matters, and what you may think is ridiculously sentimental and unnecessary, is most likely considered quite tame when it comes to romantic gestures." Mycroft said in that familiar, condescending tone.

"Yes, I get the idea, I am emotionally stunted. You've made your point. Now _help._" He growled.

"Okay. Let's get started..."

* * *

**AN - So obviously, I am continuing with this story, this is but the introduction, but any suggestions for how he should propose would be appreciated, I'll credit any of you for the ideas that I use :) xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I FINALLY decided how I wanted him to propose. Sorry it took me so long. But I hope you like it anyway! I have decided only to do two chapters of this as it turns out, but I suspect you won't mind.**

* * *

Sherlock lay quietly on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling and awaiting John's return. Eventually, with Mycroft's assistance, he had decided how he would propose to John. It involved a quiet night in, nothing hugely romantic, but for a candle on the table, and a specially prepared dinner – cooking was after all, just science put into practise. Sherlock rose from where he had been lying, and began to pace the flat. Mycroft had assured him that he had nothing to worry about, yet that did not prevent the entirely unreasonable fluttering sensation he felt in his stomach. He ran a hand through his dark curls, and for the millionth time, straightened out his purple shirt. _Where was John? What was taking so long? How long till he'd get- _Sherlock heard the sound of keys scraping the lock, and he started. That would be John.

He quickly ran through in his mind the plan he'd laid out for that evening, before hurrying towards the door.

"John!" he exclaimed as he opened it, leaving John standing somewhat bewildered, a hand reached out as if to open the door himself. "You're home!"

John nodded, and leant over to peck Sherlock on the cheek. "Yep, I am indeed." He confirmed. "And you seem to be particularly cheerful this evening." He noted.

"I cooked." Sherlock explained, gesturing over to the oven which contained their food. John stared.

"You… wow, you cooked. Thanks. Look, give me a moment Sherlock, I've had such a busy day, but I'll be with you in about… five minutes?" John said, hanging up his coat, then disappearing, presumably to dump his stuff in their room and have a quick shower.

Sherlock nodded, and called after him "Put on something nice!"

* * *

About ten minutes later, John emerged, freshly showered, and wearing his favourite jumper. Sherlock beamed at him, and set their meals down on the table. "Perfect." He grinned, and took his seat. John sat opposite him, and admired the candle that had been placed in between them.

"This is lovely, Sherlock." He smiled. "Thank you."

Sherlock seemed pleased that John liked it, and they both tucked into their food.

When Sherlock was done, he excused himself briefly, to retrieve the small box from under his bed where he had hidden it. He slipped it into his pocket, hoping it wouldn't be too noticeable there. Upon returning, Sherlock found that John too had finished, and was sitting patiently at the table. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue with the plan, walking over and taking John's hand.

"Come on." He said softly, pulling John gently towards the sofa. "I'll tidy this up later."

John chuckled and murmured. "You better." Before collapsing on the sofa with Sherlock. Sherlock's arms wound around his waist, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. They lay silently for a few minutes, with John head resting on Sherlock's chest, until one of them broke the silence.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Mmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock slowly removed the little blue box from his pocket, and bit his lip. He took John's hand in his, and gently transferred the little box from hand to hand.

"Have a look inside." He whispered.

John's heart rate increased, already sensing what was coming. He opened the box, and sure enough, inside lay a simple engagement ring. He gasped quietly. He had no idea what to say.

"John…" Sherlock continued. "Would you do me the unimaginable honour of marrying me?" he asked nervously.

Silence again.

More silence. Until finally-

"Yes."


End file.
